Mecánica de Muertos
by FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Just a small story about the courier with her follow Raul; the differences between dead skin and smoothskin. Rated M for violence, sex, and language.
1. Chapter 1

_In the north west of the Mojave wasteland...with the wind howling and the sand swirling. A ghoul and a courier wade out the red sand storms._

"Well...?"

"Hell, I don't know boss, few hours maybe." That old Mexicana voice drawled into a wrinkled rotten palm.

"You'd know more about them than I would. The north doesn't get them all that much, at least I've never seen them like this until now." The scratchy female voice perked up in reply, trying to keep a conversation going with the ghoul that was currently pinching a bit of dead flesh on his chin between two fingers. She looked at him breifly, only feeling a little disgusted at what he was doing. She turned her eyes to the entrance, watching as the sand gusted outside through rusted holes along the metal walls and inbetween cracks around the edges of the shed. She wouldn't say it out loud but Raul's shed was a piece of shit…

"Eh, they don't last any longer than a day." Again that dirty south of the border voice came out of Raul. She had to admit she liked the sound of it the more he trekked along with her. It was a good idea she mentioned he come with her.

"mmm..", she made a mumbled sound in acknowledgment to his statement. It had been no more than five minutes since the sand storm started and she was already itching to move around. By her nature she found she couldn't sit still for very long. Even getting to sleep was sometimes difficult to manage; however, at the thought of sleep she yawned - making a loud tired sound that almost out climbed the noise from outside.

A 'click' sounded and the dim room flooded with yellow light; a nice change from the darkening rusty shed. She turned to see Raul's mutilated arm pulling away from a desk lamp. He gave her a small smile, or was that just the way he always looked? He always seemed to have a little curve to his lips due to the depressions in his cheeks and the cracks around his mouth. Regardless she smiled back and watched him lean back in his stool against the wall to start tinkering with an old cracked clock.

The black and blue veins in his fingers slid a little along his fingers as he turned a screw driver between a few filthy cogs, flicking grim out and digging back in between them with a bit more ease. A piece of glass from the clock face fell on his pant's leg and her eyes followed it. She'd realized she was fucked up the moment she wondered what was lurking under the jumpsuit a couple weeks ago, now she thought the same thing – but with a little more perversion than before.

She averted her eyes just in time to avoid the Mexican ghoul catch her staring. She was sure he'd caught her a few times before but seemed too polite to say anything – for that she was thankful, very thankful.

Outside the wind hammered and shook the shed for all it was worth before settling down enough to at least let her self resume thinking.

She picked at her fingers, pulling off dead skin and dirt from under the thin short nails. While doing this she realized again, for the second time that day how badly she needed a shower. Inside her pockets and with all the crap she had Raul carry, they both had enough for separate rooms on The Strip with hot running water and enough food to make them both puke. It was an indulgent though that managed to make her even more antsy than she was before.

She started tapping her boots together, picking now at the fabric on the worn out old cot in the corner that she'd found a little more comfortable than she'd thought.

"Calm down boss, not like we'll be stuck here forever." He chastised her as he placed a ruined 'something' on the work table. It looked like it at one point had been some kind of bolt. She frowned, but stopped even though the itch to move kept nagging at the tips of her toes and fingers.

"Can't handle this shit Raul, I can't stay still….not when there's nothing to doo..", even she knew she was whining, yet Raul wasn't someone she needed to act tough around at this point. Not when he'd already seen her puke from something as small as nerves….No, you didn't need to act tough in front of man that's already seen that.

She groaned at the memory and banged her head back against the metal with a small amount of force.

"You working with the wind to knock my abode down now? Is that it?"

She scoffed when he gave out that coughing chuckle, to then pop out another useless part from the clock and let it roll on the floor against the sole of her shoe. She caught it on the side of her shoe and kicked it to the other with some amusment. She started rolling it from foot to foot after a couple clumsy attempts.

"Come on, cheer up."

She stared at the lug nut rolling before her and put on a fake one second smile before frowning again and giving the nut a harder kick, sending the bit of metal off near the entrance. "Ugh…just shoot me now." She growled and tossed herself on her back, letting the dust puff up around her and settled against her face and clothes as she stared up at the meshed ceiling.

"I can do that boss, or I can just give you these magazines to read and save us both the hassle." As usual she could almost feel the amused smile on his worn face. She didn't flinch – well, not that much – when a bundle of mags were tossed on her. Most were old Mexican comics in Spanish and one was a early issue of Fixin' Things.

"How very entertaining…", she drawled and looked at the strips in the comics, putting the pieces together poorly.

Just when she was getting into the fight scene between La Fantoma and La Cruz Torcida a loud shattering bang clamoured through the shed.

"Shit!"

She bolted up into the corner, hugging the magazine to her chest with a wide panic stricken expression. Her little heart beat like a jack rabbit between her ribs as her eyes darted around the walls of the room. It sounded like a piece of metal had come off and hit the shed like some kind of atomic missle.

She turned her blank stare to Raul as he picked up the clock she hadn't heard him drop, looking about as normal as she could have imagined anyone looking if a sound like that had just shook their 'abode'. He started to stand, placing the clock on the table and started checking out the structure of the shed.

"What the fuck was that?"

He shrugged, tapping on an area of the shed that was closer to her than it was him. It sounded a little more hollow than it should have she guessed, cause his face turned into one of annoyance.

"Well that's no good.", he said it without much worry so she exhaled a sigh and let the comic slide down to her stomach. The last thing she wanted to do was die in a collapsing shed by a shit-tastic sand storm after surviving a .38 to the head. She could almost hear Mr. New Vegas broadcasting such a bit of news...

"Are we fucked?" She asked with a little wary, almost not even wanting him to answer her.

"Naw, not with me around." Again he gave her that hacking type laugh before squatting down with elbows on his knees to look at the splayed out magazines he'd tossed her earlier. "Haven't bothered reading these in awhile." He pushed a few off each other and picked up a very weathered comic, a similar one to the one she had been looking at before the fucking bang. "Which one you reading boss?"

"Reading?", she laughed and placed the comic over her lap, opening up to the spot she'd been at. "You really think I can read Spanish? Hell…I can barely speak proper English."

"Eh, that one's not very good anyways."

She watched as he sank back down near the old cot, pushing against the metal wall and opening up the mechanic's magazine. With the moment at hand she pretended to be looking at the comic in her lap as she watched the ghoul read. She watched how he turned the pages and how the murky eyes shifted over the paragraphs. She'd never known many ghouls before. In fact Raul was the first she'd said more than a few words to. He was rather fascinating and despite the stigma they had he didn't smell any worse than she did.

After a few minutes she'd rested her head against the wall to continue her little visual exploration. All she could really see was from his neck up and his forarms down. What skin he had left was pale and dull – the only things having much color were the faded tint of his exposed muscles and the light blue veins scattered over them.

He'd, after awhile, told her a lot about himself, but nothing more than what you'd tell to someone you'd been traveling with for a couple months. He was a pre-war ghoul though, and that alone was extremely interesting. It was like she was looking at someone who knew everything, though that was stretch of course…

Another rattle echoed around the shed and she stiffened. Raul looked over at her, holding a weird look as if he was checking up on her or something.

The room felt a little awkward all of a sudden and she instinctually cleared her throat and started concentrating on the images on the pages below her.

When the room started to darken more, with the setting sun outside, she flicked her Pipboy light on and removed it to set down between the two of them. It gave off a nicer glow than the cheap yellow bulb in the far corner. On a second thought she leaned over and switched the radio on, putting it on low.

She stayed pressed over the Pipboy as Mr. New Vegas' voice came on with that sweet charismatic tone lulling on about "that special someone you only find once". Raul too had put his magazine down and was either staring at her or the Pipboy as 'Blue Moon' came on. It was her favorite song and she knew Raul knew it too. She'd sung along to it many times; comically of course. This time it didn't seem appropriate to try and mimic Sinatra's deep voice.

Instead she just leaned against the metal wall and looked back at the ghoul as he looked back at her. The awkwardness had kinda crept back up on her and it was odd how anticipated it felt. The wind howled around the shed and the song honked on with a soft vocal, despite the sax in the background. Soon it faded into a Bing Crosby song that managed to turn the atmosphere down as Raul looked back at his magazine.

Normally he'd say something to lighten the mood. In a way Raul was just as charismatic as Mr. New Vegas, in that he always managed to keep her at ease. He always managed to lift the air with a light hearted statement. She often wondered if he took anything all that seriously...and she also wondered if that was always the way he was or the trait just started to develop after being alive for so long.

"So…guess you didn't get that thing workin'?"

For a moment he looked a little confused as he peered up from the mag, then he shrugged one shoulder and started to scratch at an exposed part of his skull. "No..don't think dropping it help any boss."

Finally that odd laugh started and she smiled, feeling a little easier now. It was like a comforting vibration that settled in her chest - kinda like the feeling she got when she was a kid.

"What are you going to do now?", she said it casually but as soon as it left her mouth she realized it sounded a little rude – like she didn't want him to be reading with her. Her eye waited for any sign that he'd taken a bad impression on her words. For a moment his face remained passive; normal then his eyes turned away.

She watched him grin a little, "Too ugly to sit next to, huh, boss." It hadn't been a question and that made her frown. She immediately shook her head and gapped like a little fish…

"No…I guess I just….ugh." She didn't know what to say, but it didn't seem like she really needed to make excuses for herself. Raul never seemed offended at anything, even when she had a slip of the tongue the first time they'd met. Maybe he'd just lived so long that things like that didn't bother him any. She didn't know, it was hard to imagine being alive for so long and through so many big changes…

"Calm down boss. Stress out over the wind if you need to, but don't stress out over ol' Raul."

He got up though, and she felt herself wincing as he trudged over to his work bench again to start turning the bashed up clock in his hands again. She felt stupid just looking at him start picking at the dirt around the chipped red paint. Maybe she was just over thinking what she'd said; what he'd said, but she still felt like she'd offended him some how – even if he acted like she hadn't. He'd still be sitting with her if he wasn't secretly offended, right?

She scooted down on the cot and laid on her side with one hand against her jaw as she turned the page to her comic, trying her hardest not to think about it any further – besides, it was comforting just hearing him tinker away at the clock as she looked at the pictures. At first she'd been uncomfortable at the prospect of being cooped up in his shed, but now it didn't seem all that bad - kinda nice, actually.

The radio went along; song after song until she found that sleep was rolling upon her. Before consciousness slipped away for the night a scratchy warmth enveloped her and a blurry figure that smelled much like a certain Mexican ghoul pushed a few strands of hair from her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed and everything turned into a comfortable dark absence.

"G'night boss.."

* * *

So, little more dialouge than I'm used to. What do you think? Might turn this into a longer fic or I might cut right to down and dirty. Either way you know I'm gonna add some filth...

Please review if you got the time. Kinda need some feedback (not used to doing many non-Charon ficlets)


	2. Chapter 2

Raul sat atop his shed, sarsaparilla in hand and hammer teetering on one thigh. The boss was still inside, sleeping or something - he hadn't check since he'd left - and he'd taken the liberty of starting the repairs on his shed. His box of tools was hitched into one of the uneven metal shingles so as not to topple off due to the slope the roof gave. He himself was straining just to keep steady above the rickety home. As soon as the sun had rose he'd been out searching the area for that worthless piece of metal that'd fallen off yesterday, shuffling around like some goof.

He grumbled, scratching his chin before taking a hardy swing of the warm beverage. Despite the temperature it tasted mighty delicious. The flavor swirling in his mouth made him smile as he brought the tool box up on his lap, humming as he did.

If he was quick he could get this stuff done before she woke up…

* * *

It'd been a few minutes and still she found herself laying down on the cot, staring up at the ceiling. Even if he'd been trying to be quiet up there it didn't work – not that she needed to sleep any more anyways. Her pip-boy read 6:57 am, a good hour at least after the sun came up. With a roll of her hips she was facing the legs of the work bench, staring past the dirty metal floor. The lug nut she'd been tossing around from yesterday was hugging the foot of the work bench as if in spite of her. She scoffed at it and started to get up. The day was already afoot and to hell with lying around a dirty shed anyways, the sooner the ghoul got done with whatever it was he was doing up there, the sooner they could leave.

Perhaps Raul could use some help..

Outside the shed the world was bright and crisp. The dawn was more white light than yellow and it always calmed her; the start of a new day, with plenty of sun shine ahead of her. Though the sun was no joke, shining bright and glaring down at her like a vilified friend - it blinded her a moment.

"Which way is up…", she groused, blinking rapidly and maneuvering around to shield herself from the suns rays.

Just as she expected, Raul was staring down at her from the top of the shed with a friendly look, swinging his hammer in a 'hello goodmorning' type of gesture. She waved back and cracked a smile, fanning the same hand over her eyes to get a better look at him.

"Need some help?", she cocked her head to the side, squinting her eyes, "I'm not too shabby you know.."

"Neither am I boss.", he smirked and started screwing something in place, turning away from her. "I thought I'd have this done before you woke up…", he paused then gancing down at her,"….guess the noise didn't help much huh?"

She grinned a smile, still bearing a hand against the sun and shrugged. "Can't complain really."

She made a move to go back inside, but paused and then moved back around to look up at him. "Sure you don't need some help?"

"Nah thanks boss.."

He saw the top of her rust colored hair disappear into the shed. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't content to know that she was awake, even more so that he had woken her. She'd been in a good mood lately and for some reason he felt keen to putting her back into her regular 'couldn't careless' state of mind. All this smiling and sweetness wasn't something he'd come to get used to with her - not that it wasn't some what enjoyable.

* * *

She left him too it, going back inside to gather everything up for the trip to The Strip. Her body sang with anticipation, just thinking about finally getting into the bright lights of New Vegas. She'd followed the trail up until this point and the thought of being so close to the 'bastard' and this final stop wasn't as satisfying as she'd thought – then again, she could have a ways to go for all she knew…..and most likely, that would be the case. Though still, despite getting her revenge, the thought of going back to just working a courier job didn't sound so exciting after all this – it sounded…a little boring, which was silly since the job was not in any way boring.

She scratched at the scar above her eye, tracing the bumps and creases while remaining conflicted. Sometimes the scar itched like a damned scorpion bite...a nasty one too.

Another bang and shake from above her got her moving again. She pushed some hair over the scar and kneeled down to gather up all the scattered items. Food needed to be packed, ammo and water as well as the nick-nacks. She stared at the door a second before pocketing a couple of Raul's magazines. They would do better with her than stuck here in this old shed with no one to read them...

Three more screws later and walla! Raul's home repair exceeds the Mojave's expectations.

He finished off the sarsaparilla and tossed it off the shed with little care. It was done! He knew it was more than a little depressing, at this age, to be so proud of a simple repair like this but he'd been doing little lately and this was at least something. Fixing that smoothskin's gun and patching up her armor wasn't nearly as satisfying as he thought it would be. He missed repairing the simpler things...things that didn't involve life or death hanging in the balance.

He scooted off the side, dangling his legs and grabbing the tool box before hopping off the roof. His knees gave a small pop and he sighed. The stiffness earlier now fell into sweet relief and with a few more cracks here and there he was all set.

Before he could turn around the front door opened, and out came the boss; nearly camouflaged with all the gear stacked up around her. It was comical.

"Think you're the one that needs help now, huh boss?"

Suddenly the prepared little smoothskin looked a little sheepish. "..Perhaps."

* * *

They headed south for twenty five miles and cut to the west for the last few hours distance. The journey was boring, long and hot - though about thirty minutes outside Freeside they stumbled upon an oasis, which looked to be at one point a pit-stop. This little area was home to shade, a rusty ammunition box and several items scattered around and imbeded in the sand.

While Raul sat down on the tilted chair, resting his legs, she went to scavenging the various things stuck in the dirt. She heard Raul start prying open the ammunition box as she inhaled the dusty sand below her. It smelt good. On her hands and knees she tossed worthless junk aside and pocketed things that looked like they could fetch some caps.

A accomplished sound behind her told her Raul had gotten the box open and was, she guessed, more than likely popping whatever ammo he'd found inside their packs.

The wind blew finally, creating a cool breeze under the shade of the oasis. Out the corner of her eyes she noticed a flapping shine buried in the sand against an empty sarsaparilla bottle. Back and forth in the wind this, something, tilted forwards and backwards. Upon closer inspection and some dirty digging she un-covered a worn soiled magazine. Grit caked the front and back, making it almost un-readable.

With a quick glance at Raul who was taking the opportunity to fix up her old 10mm pistol she went to work scratching the filth off the mag with her short stubby nails. It was a find, this magazine. Normally she'd have to keep an eye out while riffling through old houses and past inhabited dwellings to find one. She hoped it was a Today's Physician...she'd had a rash on the side of her thigh for a few days now, and it was starting to get...concerning...

But no..it wasn't what she'd hoped.

It was one better!

"Hooo doggie!"

She struck it against her thigh a few times, grinning from ear to ear while what was left of the dirt fell off, revealing a Lad's Life.

"Lookie what I've found here. A gem in ah' junk pile..."

She turned, showing it off to Raul a few feet away. His reaction was nonplused but it didn't deter her in the slightest. A survival mag was just about the bee's knees as far as it went in the Mojave. Most of the things she'd have problems with could be figured out in these crinkled old pages - and the idea of skimming it's section later in Freeside was too good. All she needed to do now was get moving and finish off the next few miles.

She saddled up by the ghoul, dropping down on the floor near one of the packs and stuffed the mag inside. He looked down at her briefly, squinting in the suns rays before he snapped a few parts on her pistol back in place and twirled it around in one hand. She peeked over at him, above her now opened Nuka-Cola. He looked like a regular ol' gunslinger - minus the skin of course.

She reached a hand out and he placed the gun in her hand, mumbling something in that language of his before reclining back in the chair to relish in the rest of their small stop. She checked the chamber then flicked her wrist, the motion slapping it shut. She examined the gun in both hands before latching it to her hip and getting up on her knees; dirty and dusty. She chugged the whole cola in record time, feeling the sugar fizzle down her throat and up her brain. With a small burp she tossed the empty bottle over one shoulder casually.

Past the hard sun, in the distance she could make out the towering casino of the Lucky 38. She kept her smile. The feeling of revenge drawing closer was enough to make the rest of the journey feel almost pleasurable - it would be nice though, when she could toss herself in a relatively clean bed and sleep for more than four hours. The wasteland by now felt like home, but nothing beat a safe place with a soft mattress to collapse on top of.

"You ready boss?"

He was already standing, two packs slung over both shoulders, the strings making a cross. He harbored his regular cut smile, with his banged up hands pushed into the deep pockets of his jumpsuit. She nodded her head, pushing her hair over one shoulder and getting up herself. A sun burn was coming on over her cheeks and she scratched at a patch of dry skin - not the smartest thing to do but it was a habit of hers.

"Ready as every other time."

He smirked in response and made a near-silent sound as she started leading the way. It was down hill from here on out, literally. His joints started to ache just halfway down the slop on a particularly high hill. She hiked down with stride, being so young and limber. He envied her in every sense of the word. Being near an old man even before his ghoulification didn't leave him as spry as some other ghouls, and ghouls themselves were normally not a flexible as smoothskins.

He kept an eye on her, stepping carefully yet quickly behind her. Her hair was bobbing on her shoulders, her pack was bouncing above her behind and her clothes padded around her where they were particularly loose.

She was interesting, to say the least. Her sense of morals were a little askew for his liking but she had her other redeeming qualities. One of them, being the most obvious, was that she wasn't horrible to look at, not extremely easy on the eyes at this point - what with the scar above her eye and all the dirt and blisters on her face, but given a couple days to relax he figured she could stand up to the many glamourous whores on The Strip.

He wasn't a perverted old man, but he couldn't deny either that the girl was fit - possibly more than the whores. Her body seemed the result of her job. Walking to a fro places constantly, it would definitely do a woman proud.

He looked away from her backside, seeing the bottom of the drop off closer than he'd expected. The sun was about a fingers length off the cliffs by now and if they kept up this pace, they'd just make it to Freeside before nightfall. The boss had put ideas of warm beds and running water in his mind for the past few days and he imagined he was almost as excited at her. It'd been quite a while since he'd traveled the wasteland and it was taking its toll in many small, unpleasant ways.

"Want to stop by the Grab n' Gulp for a bite?" She tossed her head back at him, finally hitting leveled ground.

He didn't want to stop, no, but if she wanted to then they would. "Sure boss, whatever you say." He added a bit of light heartedness to his last words and put on a turned smile. She seemed satisfied and started to pick up the pace, making a bee-line for the little eatery.

He slowed down, walking instead of jogging like the smoothskin had picked up before stopping before the food stall. He watched her expression crinkle but smile and he knew her stomach had just growled - she always made that face when he heard it.

The lights flickered on and buzzed when he got up to her. The sun was sinking down past the cliffs, turning everything a shade darker than what was comfortable to see clearly. A hearty smell pushed into his nostrils and he looked down, seeing the boss already guzzling down a mysterious bowl of stew - it did smell good though.

She slurped and smacked her lips, filling her belly full of the hot liquid as he did the same - not as savage-like as her but fast enough to not take too much time. The soup was good too. She definitely knew what to order.

When he was done they both strolled leisurely to the gates of Freeside. She'd ordered herself another drink, something with alcohol in it he guessed, and she was sipping at it as they passed some of the King's men. They leered, eyeing the two before going back to a conversation that had been purposfully hushed now that they were walking by. The smoothskin didn't seem put off by it in the slightest. It seemed a full belly made her ignorant of anything and everything but her main goal - which flashed on her face like one of the many neon signs they were about to surround themselves with.

He grunted, shifting one heavy pack at a different angle, trying to distribute the weight evenly.

Inside Freeside it was a mess. Drunk NCR troopers were stumbling along the street and King members hung around, stewing in their hatred of them. The place smelt of cigarettes and phosphor - an oddly pleasant combination. The noise became one single ruckus of chatter, yelling and buzzing - the change from the near silent wastes was pleasantly shocking and the smoothskin seemed to feel the same way.

She finished the last of her atomic cocktail, smashing it on the ground with a bright smile. The prospect of gambling sounded good, but maybe securing a room for the night would be safer - at least first. Blowing all her caps to then have to sleep on the street wasn't a very appealing notion, not when she had more than enough doe right now to have a room and a splendid time.

"You wanna go trade that stuff in...", she gestured to the packs around his shoulder with a finger, "...while I go get us some rooms?"

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor again boss, you don't need to spring the extra caps you know." He paused and thought a moment, maybe she wanted to get rid of him for the night - it would make sense after all. If he'd had enough caps and had been in her shoes he would have paid extra to get a ghoul like him out the room. Suddently he felt a little sheepish, especially with the tired smile she was giving him.

"No, I don't mind. You need a bed to call your own...at least for the night." She had plans, anyways, ones that she couldn't really do with him snoring on the floor. She'd taken a peak at the Lad's Life from earlier and found out how to make soap. Not detergent, but real soap, and she planned on cooking some up for a long leisurely bath tonight - that is if she didn't get piss drunk like she was tempted to do.

She stopped for a moment on one of the side walks in front of Mick & Ralph's, thinking for a moment. He looked a little off some how but she ignored it as a trick of the light under the bright neon signs.

"We need some more 10mm rounds and chew...uh..", she picked a few caps out of her pocket, tossed them in her palm and handed them to the ghoul before her,"..could you get me some...jet too."

He nodded, keeping a straight face as she froze, giving him a look as if she was expecting him to say something she was ready to refute - he didn't speak. She looked around and then nodded to him. "Meet me in the Wrangler when your done." And then she was gone.

He stood there for a moment, a little put off by her but letting it go as he stepped inside the shop. She was going to do what she wanted, and he had no right to say anything nor care. He did however, hate when she sent him off to do things like this. Mick...or was it Ralph was like most smoothskins, if he was seen in the company of another smoothy they didn't think it odd, but when he was alone they did nothing but stare - which was the most polite thing he'd run across. Getting enough caps for each item was hard work, and he had to say just the right things to get a reaction that wasn't anger or frustration.

By the end of the hour he'd bartered almost eighty percent of the weight in his pack. Over eight hundred caps shook and jingled in his pockets as he made his way across the street to the Atomic Wrangler. He kept his head low, appearing meek as a group of sauced NCR troopers stumbled by, hanging off each other laughing and yelling.

It was best for him to just hunch over and look beaten before he managed to push himself into the casino. It was dark and moldy, but the temperature was comforting. He examined the room, looking around until his eyes landed on the reddish head of the smoothskin. He adjusted the packs over one shoulder and walked over to her, stepping down the cut out of the room to see her hanging against a table. She looked a little drunk...

She looked quit drunk, actually. She was smirking up at him, cheeks red even in the low light and eyes glassy.

"'Bout time. I wa's about to leave the kee with the owner.." She placed a small silver key on the table with a twitchy hand before looking up at him expectantly. She didn't need to say anything, he knew that look. He looked down at his pockets, pulling out a few hefty pouches of caps. She quickly grabbed two and stood, scraping the chair against the floor with a 'creek'.

"I'll be back latr..," she stuffed the pouches in her own pockets and patted him on the shoulder clumsily. He almost pull back from her, a little shocked she'd touched him in public. She just smiled lazily and stared for a few uncomfortable seconds before walking to the door. "Make yurself comf'torble."

He arched a brow, watching her leave. The front of his shoulder tingled vaguely even after he picked up the key and began heading up the flights of stairs to his room - it was right by hers. He let his visage drop, unlocking the door and shoving the it open. The room was nice...

"Tonto hombre, solo un smoothskin..."

He threw the packs on the floor and eased himself on the bed. He sighed, putting a chin in one hand as his elbows rested on his knees. He was too old to get upset out this - too old to even feel the way he did about the boss. He could tell himself to just let go, just..not worry about it, but that didn't get him very far. All he could do was groan and rubb at his roughened face in aggravation. He needed to do something entertaining, something to get his mind off things.

Maybe washing would be a good idea...he never smelt great, but he could at least not smell terrible. With a whiff here and there he figured it would be best for the both of them if he got the stink off him - so with a heave and a crink he began to undress.

* * *

She eased forward in her chair, leaning over the table as the King thumbed the divot in his chin thoughtfully. It was hard to not come off as eager, especially around him but she did her damned best. Rex, the dog in question was snoozing under the King's chair, making little robotic clicks every time he kicked his leg in his sleep.

The range of emotions crossing the King's handsome features wasn't very condusive with the response she wanted from him. He didn't look like he was falling for her wit. Maybe she should have gotten spruced up before she came over here...she knew the answer to that, and it was yes. She couldn't exactly charm her way through with him, not with looking like a sun-burnt waste whore now could she?

"I don't know about that little lady, the deal doesn't ring to right with me. You might need to come back tomorrow after I've thought this through, maybe give you a little task to do for me before we talk about this old hound dog."

She nearly winced, she'd done enough for him in the past and it just was never enough. She'd asked him about Rex once before and he'd said something similar like this.

"Nothing I can do right now?" She arched a brow, clasping her arms on the table as she eyed him with a meager amount of hope. Definitely should have bathed...

"A lesser gentleman may have a few ideas but I am not that man. You can come back tomorrow if you'd like. I'll have an answer for you then.." The King smiled charmingly, putting his attention back to the stage as he swirled his drink around. For the moment she just stared at him, annoyed more than she would have been if she'd been sober.

He didn't look like he expected an answer from her so she got up slowly, pushed in her chair and left.

Back at the Atomic Wrangler she downed more alcohol and played more black jack. Each drink, each hand was in its own way the same loss. The cards blended with each other after the last two drinks and before she knew it she was almost crawling up the stairs to her room. Hands and feet on each stair step about half the way up the last flight was thankfully done without anyone seeing her. She made it to her door, wobbling in front of it. The door knob wiggling back and forth, evading the key in her hand. She stabbed it everywhere but the lock and growled loudly - it quickly turned into a shriek as she pounded on the door in a drunk rage.

"Sit fuckin' lock, op'en!" She wined, slumping forward against the door, knowing she'd have to go down stairs...unless she wanted to sleep like this. For a moment that idea almost sounded okay. She shut her eyes, feeling as if she was spinning in circles until all of sudden the support she'd been lying against was lifted. The air replaced the door and before she had time to yelp she was flat on the floor, halfway inside the room with dirty carpet pushed up her nose.

"What the hell boss? Eh...you okay?"

She laughed bitterly into the carpet, though it came out muffled and crunchy. Even as drunk as she was she could see the humor in this situation, especially when two strong hands lifted her up under her arms and hoisted her on a bed that creaked and sank under her weight. She moaned, as the ghoul rolled her over on her back, mumbling something again in that language of his as he started fishing something off the floor.

The ghoul came back, patted her cheek and said something she couldn't decipher. She just groaned and stuffed her face against her shoulder, closing her eyes.

He debated on leaving her and taking her room, but she was very drunk, and he didn't know if leaving her was the best idea. He picked at the fresh set of clothes he'd put on and heaved out a baffled sigh. This wasn't what he'd expected to happen, then again nothing really was ever going as he thought anyways.

"Que hacer..."

He shut the door first - went to the clothes he had soaking in the tub and swished them around in the detergent until staring at himself in the mirror. If he was another kind of man he'd have already been peeling her out of her clothes by now. The thought was disgusting, but not as much as he'd wished.

He braced himself on the sink, watching his distraught faces in the broken glass. Never had he had so much inner turmoil since she came along. Even when he was stuck in that room on Black Mountain, with nothing but the ham radio and his tools was he this bothered.

He turned back to glance into the room, seeing the view of her legs spread on the bed. His face looked a little more weathered than he'd expected when he looked back at himself. This situation wasn't one he appreciated - then again, it was better he was the one who's room she in. Others wouldn't just leave her there in bed like he'd planned on doing.

The tarnished porcelain warmed up in his hands. He looked down into the sink, ignoring the look on his face when certain ideas tugged at his brain. He ticked his head to the side and shook it, grunting while and started to stand up straight.

It was offending and crass, and everything but what it should be when he looked down to see a bulge in the brahmin skin pants he'd put on...

"Dios..no..."

* * *

Second chapter, done! I've started a spanish class, so hopefully that will help with later chapters. Hope you liked it, more soon! - and yes, I think I'll make this one into a proper story.


	3. Chapter 3

Shorter, I know. Hate me if you like. I got sidetracked with another story. Promise to get regular updates at least once a week.

* * *

His reflection stared back at him, mockingly just as it had done when he'd been in this similar situation over a century ago - though that time didn't bode well for him either and he couldn't help but compare. He was getting too old, things were starting to repeat and memories just felt like deja'vu.

The boss was snoring now, gargling in a very unappealing way, a way that almost reminded him of himself...still though, she was sprawled out on his bed. This was not the best situation he'd ever been in.

He reached down and adjusted his stiff erection, feeling it start to ache in its current position. This was terrible. He couldn't handle being unable to force himself into a positive, even humorous outlook...though there was no humor in this - none at all...well, except humor at his expense and the mood didn't seem right for that.

He perched over the sink for a few more moments, mulling it all around while sprouting out a few spanish curses to the stained porcelain. He sifted around in his brain for some snarky comment that would make him feel better but nothing came to mind - so, like a good comrade he gave his clothes another swish in the leaky tub and went back into the room, avoiding the smoothskin on the bed.

"She better not wet herself..", there it was, a snarky comment, just what he needed - and he did smile a little. Though she really better not piss herself...

He sank down in a chair a few feet from the bed and let his old joints snap and relax. The day was finally over, well almost...he just needed to will himself to sleep now.

"Just count sheep, like you used to..."

He scooted down farther into the chair, leaning his head back and letting his legs plant themselves farther out closer to the bed. He shut his eyes, counting the puffy things that he could just barely remember. Did they have faces like brahmin or no..? He let out a sigh and finished it off with a grumble as he settled into sleep. It took awhile but at some point he drifted off, even with the boss jackhammering beside him.

When he woke up he was in bed, laying in the middle of the thick soft sheets; it was a welcomed respite from the rocks he was used too. He pulled his eyes open, feeling sleep leave him in a very slow manner, which seemed to happen the older he got. It took too long for him to realize what was wrong with the situation, and even when he did it took him longer to react to it.

He shifted his head from side to side, stiffening like a two by four before jutting up in bed. The mattress bounced under him and when he focused he could hear the bath running...

His neck had snapped at the motion but he ignored the pain shooting down his spine as the sound of a bath filling up hammered in his ears. He needed to leave - get his things and finish off recuperating in a separate room like they'd originally planned. Wait...

He looked at the door, light peeking out along the carpet from the crack in the door. Why wasn't she in the other room doing this? Sure..they'd had to do things together like bathe and all, but never had he taken a peak at her...and never had he been in a confined room with her, or let alone with another option of...

He rubbed his temples, the thoughts were giving him a headache and in the end there was no reason to think about it, it didn't matter right? Besides, he'd dealt with worse and a little running water and smoothskin never killed anyone.

"Oh por los dioses, what the hell."

He got up right away, pushing a fist into his neck to crack the vertebrae before stumbling around the room for the key he'd picked up last night; it would just be easier to fall back asleep in a fresh bed that didn't smell so much like her and dirt. It was no where and the fucking bathroom door was still cracked...and he could hear her rummaging around and then water..splashing. He was an old man, but sometimes during moments like this he felt like he was a teenager again, which wasn't exactly great since he had very little malleable skin left and he wasn't exactly a spry chicken; whatever that meant.

"Hijo de puta.."

He gave the room another once over before heading for the door with a frown on his weathered face. He could always pick the lock.

"Raul?..."

He froze, craning his neck to the ajar door to his left.

"...Raul..? Answer me or I'm fucking screaming."

He groaned, walking to the door and tapping the wood with his knuckles.

"Yeah, it's me boss. No need to get your panties in a twist."

He almost condemned himself for sounding so...annoyed with her, but he refrained. He slumped against the wall, right beside the door as the sound of water splashing echoed in the bathroom. The noise made him slightly nostalgic and for a moment he was reminded of a time long since past. He shut down for a moment, not hearing the female voice on the other side of the wall. Images of children splashing in the bathtub went through his mind and he smiled. It wasn't often he had flashbacks...good ones like these, so he managed to go oblivious to the voice in the bathroom until the sound of something opening and the displacement of air beside him woke him up.

She was standing there...not his children - no, she was standing there with a furious look on her face that immediately disappeared when she got a good look at him. She must have sensed something because her mouth shut - which no doubt had been about to spew forth something directed at him. He ignored the skin she showed in just the moldy towel, thanking the image of his kids for displacing the horror he was having over the smoothskin moments ago.

"Sorry boss, didn't get much sleep last night. You know...someone fell into my room, hogged the bed and revved up an engine the whole night long."

He forced on a smile, and sure enough she couldn't tell the difference between that and a genuine one. She smiled back and then disappeared back in the bathroom. His sarcasm was growing on her it seemed.

When the door swung as closed as could be without her actually clicking it shut, he tense his muscle, pulling away from the wall until a strange smell wafted against him. The door closing had pushed a stream of wet air; heavy with a very sweet smell. The olfactory sensation caused him to pause, sucking in the smell like it was oxygen for his deprived lungs. He knew the smell...it was something he'd eaten many times before but couldn't place its heavy scent.

He leaned there for a few more moments until it felt like his nostrils had been thoroughly soaked in the smell. Despite its sweetness there was a bitter undertone that finally acted as retrieval cue for some very old memory.

Soap. She was using soap... with some really nice scent to it.

How she found or managed to afford it he didn't know...but it smelt good - too good.

He got out the room as quickly as possible, but not before snatching up an old comic from the bottom of their pack - still with the smell encasing his nostrils even as he fumbled with the bobby pin in the worn lock of 'her' room...well, guess it was his now. The door swung open just before the pin snapped and finally, clean slightly mildewy, air cleared out his senses.

He found the bed immediately, locking the door behind him, and instead of reading the comic book he placed it open faced over his head and wished himself into blissful sleep. A bit more rest and he'll be back to his old self, one that didn't bother thinking about women or the things that only they could do..

* * *

"Come on! I know your in there."

...he sighed, not yet able to open his eyes as a featureless noise started waking him up.

"Raauuull? Hellloh?"

He felt even more groggy than when he'd first woken up. What time was it? He couldn't have been asleep for very long, he didn't feel as though he'd even fallen asleep at all, maybe just hung on precipice of sleep a few moments before she woke him up.

Again she hammered on the door, barking through the wood in the spanish word for 'fuck' - it was all she'd bothered to learn. He grunted, like he always did when he stretched out before waking. He blinked away the foggy sleep while heading to the door. It unlocked with a click and before he could open the door for her she was inside, pushing him aside and twirling around to face him with sharp eyes.

"Took you long enough you ol' ghoul." She looked annoyed but he could see the little tilt to her lips. She looked fresher than he'd seen her look since...maybe since forever. Not a speck of dirt was on her face, or in her hair, or in her teeth. She was as clean faced as any whore on the strip - the comparison didn't sound right but he'd only ever seen whores look this clean...

"You look good, boss."

"Hopefully that wasn't sarcasm. Sometimes I can't tell with you." He smirked a little, as she glanced around the room. Her eyes still looked hardened, something you just couldn't scrub out with soap...

"Did you bring anything else in here besides your comic?"

"Just myself."

She finally gave him a smile and patted him on the shoulder, already out the door. He could hear her as she walked into 'her' room, "Grab yourself and that comic, were headin' out!" She seemed to mumble a few more sentences before he went back to grab his comic and meet her in 'her' room. She was stuffing this and that in the packs on the bed, hurrying back into the bathroom, returning with arms full of crudely cut brown blocks.

The soap.

He stared at her, watching her wrap the soap in old papers, each one neatly encased and placed inside the pack near the bottom.

"I can't help but be curious as to how you managed to find that stuff in Freeside, boss. It barely seems like anyone washes with water around here."

He tossed his comic inside one pack, standing a foot from her, inhaling the fragrant smell as she continued wrapping and placing the soap.

"I didn't find it, or buy it. I made it."

"You made it?" The concept was weird, even though maybe it shouldn't have been. He arched a brow and stared at her, a full grin was forming on her face. "How?" He was skeptical, and his tone was such.

"That Lad's Life magazine had an article on the process...kinda hard, but even without a few of the ingredients it seemed to work. I just let it sit over night and this morning it was solid.", she looked up at him, handing a small bar to him which he held up to his face, "Made it with Broc flowers...and some uh...old sarsaparilla which sounded weird but seemed to work like the...honey?...that it originally called for."

He didn't know how she had time in between drinking to do this, but he wasn't going to ask now.

He sniffed it, the combination of smells had reminded him of some fruit he used to eat before the war: apples? pears? something like that. He remembered honey too; thinking about it just made him miss it though

"Bet boiling the fat was just as fun as picking the flowers..."

She grimaced, finishing up with the soap, placing the last of it inside, except the one he was still examining. "Well, that didn't smell as good as the finished product, but it wasn't the worst smell I've come across...not by a long shot."

He gave it another smell, savoring it mid-inhale when she took it from his hands. "Don't worry, I made enough for both of us."

His body tensed for a second until he let a little chuckle out. She sure was an odd smoothskin, but at least she was kind enough to consider his dry putrid skin. Though the idea of smelling like flowers and sarsaparilla sounded just as bad as smelling like dirt and sweat.

* * *

He let out that laugh of his for the first time since she'd woken up and it was nice. Hopefully what little sleep she didn't fuck up for him helped. He'd been a bit off lately, especially when they'd walked into Freeside last night. She may have said something, but sometimes things still seemed a little strained between them - as if he wasn't letting her get too close. He always seemed to mask himself with a thick layer of humor and sarcasm. It was funny, most of the time, but the more she traveled with him the more it became apparent that he was more often than not, hiding something.

She had almost a grands worth of caps left and she planned on buying Mick's forged pass to get her and Raul on the strip for the night time flood. The man in the checkered suit was on the Strip, somewhere, and she was going to find him.

"You ready?", she tied up one of the duffel bags, looking up at him out the corner of her eyes. He seemed lost for a moment before looking behind him.

"My clothes, the ones that were soaking in the tub? You didn't flush them did you?" His deep rasp once again held that tone of humor. It was hard to be in a bitter mood around him, unless he was the one making her bitter, but that was another story.

"Oh, in fact it took just a bit of turpentine and they lit up like a bonfire...", maybe she was too believable. He gave her an odd look, eyes a little wider than normal. "Kidding."

"They weren't dry so I bagged 'em...there in...," she pulled a pack from the middle of the bed, leaning over the edge. "..here." She held up a smaller bundle of ripped magazine pages that no doubt had his soggy clothes in them.

"Wonderful.", he grated out, but she smiled anyways as he started to sling two packs over his shoulders.

They were ready, well almost, still needed to get that pass. She gave Raul a lingering look, feeling a wave of nerves wrack her body at the idea of entering the Strip. As long as he bail on her, stuck around to make her laugh she could stay cool...she had too. Even though her stomach would agree that turning tail and leaving now was probably the smarter idea, her pride just couldn't let it go. No one put a bullet in her head and kicked her into a shallow grave for the maggots to feast on...no one.

"Lets go."

"Right behind ya' boss."


End file.
